


Sincerely L. Cohen

by cherryvanilla



Series: Yuletide Assignments and Treats [16]
Category: Famous Blue Raincoat (Song)
Genre: Gen, Morning After, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane awakens to the low light of a lamp on the bedside table and the scratching sound of a pencil on paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sincerely L. Cohen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadenzamuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadenzamuse/gifts).



Jane awakens to the low light of a lamp on the bedside table and the scratching sound of a pencil on paper. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, wiping the sleep out of her eyes and brushing the hair off her forehead, tucking the strands behind her ear. 

“Writing,” he answers, voice thick and rough. His literal answers often irk her, but this time she lets it go. After all, there’s only one person he’d be writing at 4 a.m. in the morning. 

“Tell him I said hello,” she yawns and settles back down, resting her head against his chest. 

She tries to fall back asleep but can’t, brain spinning with thoughts. Why she came here tonight in the first place, why she’s stayed. 

Why it’s been months and she keeps coming back. Why she gave him that lock of hair hours earlier before he pressed her into the mattress and made her forget old memories in order to make new ones. 

She told herself she did it for closure. A symbol that it’s really over. She tells herself his letter is for closure as well: acceptance, forgiveness, a symbol of moving on. 

Except she still isn’t sure if L’s forgiven him for leaving them both, despite being happy that he gave Jane up. 

The sex -- that had all been uncomplicated. It was the rest of it that was confusing, messy, painful. 

She pulled away, especially from L. The fights, the tension, the jealousy -- it had gotten too much to handle. 

And when she made them face it all, when she forced them all to just -- get it out in the most carnal way possible -- it had been like a geyser of feelings and passion. Watching them together, feeling them inside her, gasping as they kissed every inch of her and made her moan, before doing it to each other -- it had been beautiful. 

She was foolish to think that could last. She woke up the next day, completely alone in her own bed. 

L. stayed away, but not before saying he couldn’t do this anymore. Not with the three of them. 

Jane never was one for ultimatums. 

G. came around more. Jane took what she could get. 

Until G. left. 

“I need to clear my head. I think of you -- of both of you -- too much.” 

“We can be together,” Jane whispered, touching his face, dragging her hand up through his long hair. “Let me talk to him.” 

G. shook his head. “I’m going west.” Then he pulled something out of his pocket, pressing it into her hand. “Remember me.” 

She went back to L. It was sex, hot and feral. It was as uncomplicated as it ever was, it was actually fun, less confusing. She told herself she didn’t need more. She told herself things were fine. 

When she brings the hair it’s to spark something, ignite a change. A change she continues to crave. 

He fucks her hard and fast and keeps her in his bed for hours. 

And now she’s laying on his chest while he writes their ex-lover. 

She wants to know exactly what he’s saying. 

She wants to know if he’ll mail it.

(Jane got a postcard a month ago; _the desert is nice_ , it had said). 

“I wonder what he did with that raincoat,” is what he whispers into her hair when he finally puts the pen and paper down and turns out the light. “He doesn’t need it in the desert.” 

He’d worn it that night they met him at the train station. That night Jane invited them both into her bed for the first time, all three of them. 

“It was torn anyway,” she whispers back. 

He pulls her closer. 

She thinks of leaving. 

She thinks about how much two airplane tickets to Arizona might cost. 

She thinks maybe she’ll mention that in the morning. 

Because she’s not leaving. 

But that doesn’t mean they can’t. 

The End


End file.
